You're All I Have
by WaitTillYouDoubtNoMore
Summary: When 14 year old Tess's mother dies, she flees to Seattle to find her father, Mark Sloan. But her painful childhood has left her a fearful wreck, not to mention her trust issues, she is a mess. So will her father be able to break through her barriers and help her, or will she spiral downhill just like her mother? (Lots of Slexie going on too. Rated T for cursing.)
1. Stranger

**A/N: **So I'd like to make some things clear about this story before you start reading. It's taking place at the same exact Sloan Riley(Mark's daughter) came into Grey's Anatomy. (This would have been around season 5) But this is where you have to start listening, Tess is in no way like Sloan Riley, she's a completely different person. Um what else do I have to say, Mark and Lexie are together too, and yeah, everything else I'm gonna figure out as we go through the story. I know this isn't the best first chapter I've ever written, actually I'm really annoyed with my writing right now so I'm kinda fighting myself about this chapter, but you need to start somewhere you know. This is a relatively short chapter, and I'm planning to make the future chapters larger. And please, I cannot stress this enough, REVIEW, You can criticize my writing or you can compliment it, as long as you tell me what I'm doing wrong or what you don't like, I'm fine with it. Okay so I should probably let you start reading, thank-you for taking the time to read it by the way. :)

Disclaimer: I own nothing, it all belongs to Shonda Rhimes, except Tess, Tess is sort of mine.

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**"Everybody is a stranger. But that's the danger in going my own way." -John Mayer**

I've always been the forgotten one. Always. It's sort of a depressing thought when you really think about it, but the really dark and twisty part comes in when you learn that I'm just so used to it that I don't even care. My name is Tessa, I go by Tess though. I've lived in Chicago my entire life, until now. The past week has been what you would call complete and utter hell, and now I'm here in Seattle, awaiting the arrival of my father, who by the way I've never met before, in a waiting room.

Seattle Grace is the stereotypical hospital you think of when someone mentions breaking a leg, the ER is especially familiar. It's overcrowded, there are nurses on every corner, if you really stretch to look beyond the counter you see about a dozen people laying on tables, most of them don't look like their hurt that badly, but I assume the really bad ones are in the rooms that have blinds on all the windows. There are constantly nurses and doctors swarming around them, bringing gauze's and other utensils, and every once in awhile they wheel someone out in a hurry, in another direction of course, but you can always catch a glimpse of each doctors face, focused and ready for anything. I've been waiting in a chair for 45 minutes, along with the another 20 people, most who seem to have minor complications, such as a severe headache, which I really don't think needs an ER visit. But then again I shouldn't be talking, I don't even have a problem. I got into the waiting room by feigning severe stomach pains, the nurse had looked at me skeptically but looked at me skeptically, but had written my name down.

Don't get me wrong, I know what I'm doing is wrong, I'm probably breaking 20 laws in the process of doing this, but I really don't think I could have stayed in Chicago a minute longer, everything's changed, not that it was any better before everything happened.

The past week has seemed like a nightmare, a bad dream that I just can't wake up from, but now it's all suddenly real. Maybe it's because the whole reason for my crazy irrational choices is in the same building as me right now, or maybe it's because I'm about to meet my father for the first time. All I know is that the numb feeling has been banished by a flurry of butterflies deep within my stomach. Or maybe the numbness isn't gone, maybe it's just being temporarily hidden by feelings much bigger than it. But either way I'm nervous as hell. My mind has gone through a million different scenarios of what it'll be like to meet my father, if he'll like me, and welcome me with open arms, or if he will resent me and send me right back to where I came from.

I didn't know it till a week ago but apparently I can get a hold of all my files concerning me from a nice receptionist at a Social Services office. These files included my birth certificate, which my mother had conveniently lost, but luckily they make copies of these things, and right there in neat handwriting was my father's name, I learned a lot from that piece of paper, I learned that my mother had given me his last name, and not my great grandfathers, like she had originally said, I learned that my mother has been basically lying to me my whole entire life, which shouldn't have come as a surprise, but despite past experiences it did. I learned that I wasn't born in Chicago, but in New York. And last but not least I learned that it takes 12 dollars now a days for the fine state of New York to recognize you exist. So with that newly found information I googled my father's name and found that he lives in Seattle as a world class plastic surgeon at Seattle Grace Hospital. So now I'm here, clutching my stomach because I'm convinced if I don't play the part of a person in pain the nurse will kick me out.

"Tessa Sloan." A nurse calls out in the distance, I freeze, and get up, forcing my body to move. Once I finally reach the desk, she looks at me.

"Where are your Parents?" she asks skeptically. I look at here blankly, chiding myself for being so incredibly stupid of not seeing this coming.

"My dad's working, and my mom left to go get me something to eat." I say quickly, at least I wasn't totally lying. The nurse nodded and began to walk and led me to a room, I sat down obediently, distantly wondering if they were just out of beds to put the ER patients in. The nurse asked a few more questions and scribbled down the answers on a chart.

"Okay, Dr. Reynolds will be in soon to check you out." She said as she got ready to leave the room.

"Wait," I began, stopping her " Um is it possible if I could get Dr. Sloan as my doctor?" I ask timidly. Watching the nurse as she raises her eyebrows, and glances at my chart.

" Are you related to him?" She questions.

"No." I lied, I didn't need the whole world to know who my father was before he even knew.

"Well I don't know see why you would need him as your doctor, he's a plastic surgeon." She points out.

"I'm an old patient, I'd just feel more comfortable with someone I know, It's not like he can't spare 5 minutes to check out some stomach pains." I argued, lying again. The nurse raised her eyebrows but kept talking.

"I'll see if he's free, but I'm not guaranteeing anything." She replied. I let out a breath that I didn't know I was holding.

"Thank-you." I said as she swiftly walked out my room, obviously in a hurry to help other people. I stared at the walls that were painted a light blue, a picture of the ocean hanging on the wall. I stared at the small intricate details of the portrait, trying to keep my mind off my father, trying to force myself into calming down, but it didn't work, it never does. My brain was thinking 100 different thoughts at the same time, an overwhelming sensation. So I let my brain do what it wanted and just went with it. 5 minutes passed and turned to ten minutes which turned to twenty minutes, and by now I felt like I was going crazy. And then suddenly the door opened and in came Mark Sloan.

My mind blanked, those 100 thoughts vanished, until there wasn't anything but him right there. I blinked, trying to find the similarities between us, the first thing that stood out was his eyes, they were exactly like mine, then came the noses, and the shape of his face. Everything else I got from my mother, including my light brown hair.

"Hello, I'm Dr. Sloan, So what's the problem?" He asked simply, looking at me. My mouth refused to move, I opened it for a second, trying to make myself say something, anything, but my voice seemed to have deserted me. So I sat there, staring at him, with nothing to say. He gave me a somewhat concerned look.

"Hey are you okay?" He asked, I desperately wanted to do something, scream at him for not being there, hug him just because I found him, or even answer his damn question. But nope, my stupid mouth chooses now, of all times to not listen to my brain. He stared at me for another second.

"What's your name?" He said, trying once again to get a reaction out of me, although the chart was right next to me, and he could easily look at it. He looked at me once again, I could feel his eyes trying to decipher what was wrong. He began to start doing some sloppy sign language.

"Tess." I quickly said, my voice finally composing itself. He looked at me again, acknowledging that I had made a sound.

"Excuse me?"

"My name's Tess." I repeated, this time a bit more loudly. Mark nodded, and shot me a smile.

"Well Tess, I'm glad you're finally talking. I heard that you directly requested for me, any reason why?" He asked casually as he rummaged through the cabinets to find a pair of gloves.

"My mother knew you." I replied as he snapped on the gloves. He returned his attention back to me.

"And where is your mother right know?"

"She died." I muttered, a sharp pain that I didn't know existed spread through my body as I said the words. I watched his face as a flash of sympathy spread through his features.

"I'm sorry to hear that," He paused "So what brings you here?" He questioned. For a second I didn't know what he meant by that, until I remembered my cover story for being here in the first place.

"My stomach hurts, I've been having severe pains." I replied as he nodded, processing this information.

"Have you had any other symptoms, like a fever, or maybe you were sick a week ago?"

"Um no, I think it's just my stomach." I answered

"Okay is it like shooting pains or throbbing?"

"Shooting." Mark nodded.

" Ok, can you lie down and pull up your shirt just a little so I can examine your stomach just to make sure it's nothing major? I can go get your dad or a nurse if you feel uncomfortable." He added. The irony was almost laughable, if he only he knew, my dad was already in here.

"No it's fine." I said, a little flustered as I lied back onto the table, I pulled my shirt up so he could see my stomach. I watched as he came forward, trying to figure out when to tell him that he was my father, or if I should even tell him. I realized that I was trying to avoid it, I was trying to avoid it because I was afraid of how he would react. But I hadn't come all this way just to get told about a stomach ache I didn't even have, I mentally made a note that I would tell him today, even if I had to chase him down the hallways.

"Ok I'm gonna put some pressure on your abdomen now, tell me if anything hurts, okay?" He gently put his hand on my skin and lightly pushed it down, and repeated the process, the only difference was that he moved his hand, soon enough I realized if I wanted to go through with this I would have to actually tell him that something hurts. Great, the first encounter I've had with my dad, and it's a lie.

"Ow." I say as he pushes down on the middle-top part of my stomach. He nods and removes his hand.

"Well the good news is that you're not dying," Mark began as he took off the gloves and threw them into the trash bin "I think you might just have a bad case of muscle strain, it should go away in a week or two, if it doesn't go away, come back." He said as he flipped to another piece of paper. "I can give you some painkillers if it's really bad, but you don't seem like you're in extreme pain, Now I just need your full name for the record, and your dad can fill out the rest of the paper, then you give it to the nurse and you'll be free to go." And now I realized if I was ever going to tell him I needed to tell him now, or it really all would be nothing.

"My name's Tessa Mae Sloan," I said and waited a fraction of a second as I made sure the words had hit him "and I think you're my father." I blurted out, just as a dark haired doctor burst through the door.

"Mark, come on, I've been paging you for the last 10 minutes, I need a plastics consult, you need to start answering your damn pager!" She told him, but her words seemed to go right through him as his attention didn't waiver from me. And suddenly I began to regret my decision of coming here, I began to regret telling him he was my father, I began to regret everything, and all I wanted to do was run away, but I felt like I was rooted to the table, I felt like his gaze could keep me there forever if he wanted.

"Mark!" The doctor yelled, an attempt at snapping him back to reality.

"Not now Callie." He said his stare didn't flicker to her even for a second. She stood there for a second observing the scene.

"What's going on?" She asked, and that simple question was enough to avert his attention to her for a second, and that was enough for me to be able to get off the exam table and make a run for the door.

"Excuse me," I said as I pushed passed Callie and fled into the hallways, determined to get out, I didn't know where I was gonna go or where, all I knew was that I couldn't stay here anymore. It was clear that I was an inconvenience to his life, and although I had prepared myself endlessly for his reaction, I couldn't help but being a little hurt, I mean who wants to know that they're not wanted?

I ran outside into the downpour of rain, and realized I didn't have a clue about Seattle, I'd been sleeping on buses and benches for the past 4 days and eating in cheap restaurants .I didn't have a clue which way to go, so I sat down on the bench, and stared as various people came in and out of the hospital. I imagined what they're lives might be like, I imagined that they were happy that they didn't have any worries in the world. And I was so caught up in this that when someone with a white coat sat next to me, I didn't even notice until she began to talk.

"So you're Marks' daughter." She said, a clear attempt at conversation.

"Yeah, I think so." I replied simply, there really wasn't much to say.

"Would you mind proving it?" She asked, a question that took me off guard.

"Why? It's not like he even wants me." I replied bitterly. On that she turned to face me.

"How do you know that?"

"Well Isn't it obvious, I mean I'm sort of a inconvenience to his life, he doesn't know what to do with me."

"Okay, wait a second, from what I know he hasn't said two words to you since you randomly told him you're his daughter. You couldn't possibly know if he wants you or not," Callie argued.

"Well does he?" This time I turned around so could meet her eyes.

"Well how am I supposed to know, the only person who really does know would be Mark," She began, " So you can either go back in there and make this official and find out what he thinks of you, or you can leave, I'm not gonna make you do anything, It's your choice. But f you want my opinion there's nothing worse than not knowing." And with that she got up and walked back into the hospital, leaving me with my thoughts. And so I fought with myself, and ultimately decided that she was right, I couldn't just leave. I got up and turned on my heels to walk into the hospital, ready to deal with whatever his decision would be.

I quietly made my way through the hallways as I found the room that I had previously fled from. I took a deep breath and walked in, finding Mark and Callie talking, their conversation freezing to a halt as I walked in. And then the staring contest seem to have begun, he couldn't take his eyes off of me and I couldn't take mine off of him, it was simple as that. It was dead silent for about a minute before Callie snapped out of it.

"Okay I'm gonna go get the paternity test, don't do anything to each other." She said cautiously as she hurriedly walked out of the room, leaving us alone. Neither of us really knew what to say to each other, or maybe we wanted to sat too much, who knew, but the silence had begun to become deafening. So we stayed like that for 10 minutes before he finally chose to break the silence.

"What's your mother's name?" He asked, his eyes scanning mine.

"Suzanne Collins," I answered. A flash of recognition fled through his eyes.

"When did she die?"

"Last week." Shock took over his features while pain overtook mine.

"I'm sorry," He repeated from earlier, except this one was different, this one was more heartfelt and personal.

"Don't be, it's not your fault." I said by default, I had gotten so used to saying it that it just rolled off my tongue naturally.

"Do you live in Seattle or.."

"No, I'm from Chicago." I cut him off, averting my gaze to the floor.

"Oh." He said slowly, as if this was some huge surprising piece of information. Both of our stares went to Callie as she came back with a handful of materials.

"Okay so apparently all we need to do is get some swab samples, and a blood draw," she walked over to Mark and sat down next to him. "Say ah." She demanded, and he obediently obeyed, she took a quick sample from inside his cheek and put the cotton swab in a plastic swab labeled Mark. She took out a needle then and found a vein on Marks arm to stick it in. She withdrew some blood, but even through that his stare didn't waiver from me. She moved to me, I followed her directions, wincing when the needle struck my arm.

"Sorry," Callie muttered as she put my blood in a vial.

"It's okay." I replied, dismissing her apology.

"Okay, I'm gonna go get these tested right now, I'll be back in 30 minutes okay?" She eyed me for a second. "You're pale, go get something to eat, the cafeteria is downstairs." And with that she left, leaving us alone again. Frankly, I was starving, I hadn't eaten since yesterday morning, and by now I felt like I was dying of hunger, but I wasn't going to tell him that. I didn't want to seem like a brat, plus the numbness that I felt was beginning to overcome the hunger pains.

So we sat there, a sea of silence between us, and we're on opposite ends of it.


	2. Nobody Knows Me At All

A/N: Okay so I think this is where I begin to apologize profusely. Okay know it's been forever since I've updated, and I know a lot of you probably thought this had gone dead, but hey it's not! Okay my first main reason of why this update is so late is because of school. We literally just got out, but in the meantime the past month had been a constant worry of finals. If you haven't had finals before, believe me, you don't want to. But now school is over and my life will be devoted to writing and sleeping. (I've really missed sleep. ) For anyone who's reading this, thanks for taking the time to look at my writing, you're great, and please, please, please review. You can tell me anything as long you have something to back it up. So again, thank-you for reading this, and expect faster updates J

Disclaimer: I own nothing, Shonda Rhimes is the ruler of all. Except Tess and yeah I think that's it for now. But everyone else…. Shonda Rhimes has rights to.

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**"You can never really know someone completely. That's why it's the most terrifying thing in the world, really—taking someone on faith, hoping they'll take you on faith too. It's such a precarious balance, It's a wonder we do it at all."**

** -Libba Bray**

It wasn't 30 minutes before Callie returned, it was more like an hour. A dreadful silence-deafening hour. Neither of us really wanted to strike up a conversation, or maybe Mark was just too shocked to talk, maybe that's why I'm not talking too, because I'm shocked. It makes sense, the whole finding your long lost father part, it would be enough to throw anyone off, just for a little at least. But at the same time it seems as though it's the most improbable thing to happen, especially to me. I've gone through enough trauma in my life to kill a person, so it doesn't make sense that this, a scene I had imagined in my head my whole life, a scene I had specifically prepared myself so many times, could leave me speechless.

As we scrutinized each other I practically memorized his face everything from the little stubble on his chin, which spread upward, to the tiny little crease that formed between his eyebrows when he squinted. I wondered if that's why he was staring at me, if he just wanted to memorize everything about me. If he felt guilty for not being there when I was little, if he felt guilty for not knowing what I was like then, so he was determined of memorizing every single detail now. I had imagined this so many times when I was little. When everything was crashing down around me, and all I wanted to do was sit and cry I imagined my dad coming in and saving me, swooping me up from this horrible place and taking me somewhere magical. I imagined he would hug me and apologize endlessly for not being there, for not helping me earlier. But I would forgive him, because he had caught me, I was falling and he had saved me. And that, just that little fantasy helped me get through the day, but it was a lie. Because he never saved me, he never swooped me up from a rubble of destruction; he never even knew I existed.

When Callie finally came through the door, I couldn't read the expression on her face, which I was still unsure if that was a good or bad thing. Me and Mark looked at her simultaneously, noticing the piece of paper in her hands that I assumed were the results of the paternity test, and then I heard Callie say something I already knew.

"She's your daughter." She said softly, not sure of how to react to the information. Mark turned his head back towards me and our eyes met. This was the first time I really looked at them, they were a grayish blue, they were the kinds of eyes that stormed on bad days and shined on good days, they were mystical, and familiar. I realized I had looked into the mirror before and seen the exact same thing. He took a deep breath, and broke the gaze, turning away. This was obviously overwhelming to him; he looked as if all the stress in the world had been thrust into his hands. And then slowly, that thought that I was just an inconvenience to his life crept back into my mind, and clouded everything out 'till all I saw was that.

"I'm sorry, I really shouldn't have come here," I say, quickly getting out of my chair and making a run for the door, when his voice suddenly stops me.

"Where do you think you're going?" he asks. His voice is rough, but gentle. I stop in my tracks and turn around.

"I'm sorry?" I say, convinced that I had heard wrong.

"It's Tess, right?" he asks, and I nod my head a little. "Okay Tess, you can't just come in here and tell me you're my daughter and expect me to just let you leave. No, you're staying, at least for a little while, at least so I can wrap my mind around this and get to know you. So I'm not letting you leave, you're staying right here," he announces. His voice is insistent, but at the same time compassionate. I look at Callie for a second, who has this 'I told you so' look on her face, and then I turn back to Mark.

"Okay," I say simply. I've never been one to follow directions. Actually I've always been the one to the exact opposite of what I'm told, but I decided this probably wouldn't be the best time to argue.

"Um, you're probably hungry, what do you eat?" he asked bluntly, obviously still overwhelmed and stressed about the situation.

"Food?" I suggested as he raised his eyebrows at me and Callie smirked.

"Yeah, of course," he paused, obviously flustered. "Um, we'll go to the cafeteria, they have food." He said, stating the obvious, I stared at him as he paced the small walls of the exam room, starting to wonder if he could really be a father. I glanced at Callie who watched him pace.

"Mark, can I talk to you outside?" she calmly stated, her voice soothing. Mark glanced at her.

"Yeah sure," he replied, taking one more frantic glance at me before he followed Callie out of the room, leaving me alone with my thoughts. I stared at them through the window, straining to hear the muffled noises that they were making. Mark had still been pacing until Callie grabbed his arm and told him to snap out of it. He immediately stopped and turned around as they began to have a conversation that involved frantic hand motions and words that moved so fast along their lips that not even I could read.

After a minute I gave up, and began to dive into my own raging thoughts. I wondered what I would tell him about my mother, and how I would tell him about her. How could I even begin to explain the last 14 years? How could I even begin? And then what would I tell him about how I got here? I mean, he's bound to found out I ran away from social services, then what? Would he send me back to Chicago, to face all the turmoil that I had been dealing with for my whole entire life?

Callie and Mark walked back in, snapping me out of my thoughts, returning me back to reality.

"So, um food," Mark said, breaking the silence.

"Food is good," I said with a small nod, a small effort to keep a conversation going.

"Agreed." Callie added in. We sat there for a second in complete silence before a series of 3 rings rang out. They both looked at their pagers, it turned out to be Callie's pager.

"Damn it," she muttered as she acknowledged the 911 call. "I have to go." She stated, and she ran out, and then just like that, it was just me and my father.

"So um, there's food in the cafeteria," Mark chimed in awkwardly.

"I figured." I replied, equally awkward.

"So do you want to…" he began yet again, trailing on his last word.

"Sure, I guess," I said quickly, saving him his breath, and preventing yet another second of awkwardness. I didn't understand why this wasn't easier, not to sound rude, but I figured that we would click instantly, that we would be so alike that we wouldn't even have to try to work to make a conversation flow. But instead it was hard, very very hard.

We stood still for a second, waiting for the other to make the first move to leave the room, until we both snapped out of it, and went for the door simultaneously, nearly knocking each other over as we rushed out, as if the room was infected, and we had to get out. I stared at him blankly, before he realized that I probably didn't know where the cafeteria was. He blinked for a second, probably still trying to get the idea that he has a daughter through his mind. We walked through various hallways silently until we reached the cafeteria. It was about mid-day, so it was busy, there were family members with dark bags under their eyes picking at their food, there were doctors in various shades of blue, quickly trying to eat before they were called off to help a patient. I was so busy looking at all the people that I didn't even notice a woman in a shade of light blue was standing right in front of us.

She had long dark brown hair and brown doe eyes, she had light pink lips and had a huge smile on her face.

"So I was thinking," she began, her voice a cheery tone. I watched Mark's eyes go wide.

"Lex…" he started, his voice desperate, but she didn't seem to notice.

"No, let me get through this okay?" Mark merely nodded, his face pale. "Okay so I realized that maybe I haven't been the most…caring girlfriend lately, especially with my dad coming in, and the whole intern thing, I just - you know when two people live with each other they should be intimate, they should be able to stay up all night and talk and drink, until we're so drunk that we've forgotten where our beds are, and I mean we might not be able to do that. We might not be able to be that perfect couple that is happy all the time, and can stay up all night, but we can try. I mean we deserve that right? We deserve the right to be able to try to be that couple, because I think we can get pretty damn close if we try. So tonight we are going to try, we are going to do all that stuff that everyone else gets to do, and we are going to have fun. Got it?" she said breathlessly, and by now I was so dizzy that I felt like if someone would blow in my direction I could fall over. When I'd come here I hadn't even considered the fact that my father could be involved with someone, and the thought was surprisingly shocking.

"Lexie…" Mark began once again, his voice was strained, trying to figure out a way to get out of it. I watched as the smile fell off Lexie's face.

"Oh um, you know what it was a stupid idea, forget it," she said, flustered, and her face red.

"Wait," Mark said suddenly, grabbing her arm. "I just wanted to say I might be a little late tonight, I have a…new patient." He finished, and I watched as the smile returned to Lexie's face.

"Oh." She said simply, and for a second while she was looking at him all I could see was the passion between them, it was stunning, and slightly sickening. She looked over to me, realizing that I was there. Mark looked at us, his eyes frantic.

"Lexie, this is, um, this is…"

"Tess," I finished for him. "I'm Tess, the new patient." I stated quickly, smiling weakly at her. Lexie grinned at me; her good mood was obvious.

"Oh well, I'm Lexie," she said, introducing herself, there was a moment of silence that lingered before she continued to talk. "Um if you don't mind me asking, what brings you here?" she asked. I froze.

"Um I don't know really, just something to do with genetics." I said, making something up quickly. I glanced at Mark, who was looking at the scene to see how it would unravel. I returned my gaze back to Lexie, who looked at me sympathetically.

"Well I hope everything works out, it's been nice meeting you Tess," she said politely, and returned her attention back to Mark. "I'll see you tonight," she added and the passion was there once again, and then she went off, leaving us both staring off after her.

"Oh god, how did I forget about her, how the hell did I forget about Lexie? She's going to flip out, and tonight, I can't do that tonight, what was I thinking?" he muttered to himself, pacing back and forth again.

"I'm going to go ahead and assume she's your girlfriend," I bluntly said as I took a seat on the nearest chair, suddenly feeling a little nauseous. Maybe I would end up having some stomach problems after all.

Mark began to pace again, muttering to himself, blocking out the rest of the world as he tried to figure out a solution, something that I had caught myself doing countless times. Suddenly he stopped as he caught sight of something.

"Derek!" he called out to a man walking by with a cup of coffee in his hand. Mark immediately began to walk towards him, and in lack of better things to do, I followed him. Derek turned around and sighed.

"Mark, whatever it is, I don't have time for it, I have to get to a huge brain tumor that's going to take me 8 hours to remove," he said in a tired voice.

"Ok, I need you to think back, if there's anything that I've ever done for you that you felt like you owed something to me, well I'm calling it in. I need you to get Lexie on this surgery. I just need you to keep her occupied just for the rest of the night. I just need to figure things out," Mark asked hurriedly, a tint of desperation following his voice around.

Derek looked at him, slightly worried. "What did you get yourself into Mark?" he questioned, meeting Mark's eyes. Mark paused before he answered.

"Apparently I have a daughter," he replied in a hushed tone, but just loud enough so that if you really tried to listen to the syllables, you could hear the words that came out of his mouth, the words that neither of us could really make sense of.

"You what!?" Derek exclaimed, he wasn't exactly yelling, but it was enough to attract a few eyes their way.

"Yeah, I can't really believe it either, she just kind of showed up today. I don't- I don't really know what to do. I just need a night to figure out what I want to do, it's not like I can throw her into the streets you know?" he explained, his hand finding its way to the back of his head. Derek nodded trying to swallow this information, slightly frowning.

"Where is she?" he managed to make out, a simple question.

"I'm right here," I said, both of their glances fled to me, both equally surprised at my appearance. "My name's Tess," I offered up, trying to make a half smile, but I probably ended up failing miserably. Derek seemed to analyze my appearance, and I met his eyes. They were full of swarming emotions, a ocean blue, it seemed as if he held all of the world's problems, but at the same time, a happiness that no one could match.

"Derek," he said, introducing himself, and then his own pager began to release a high-pitched ring, he briefly looked at Mark. "I'll keep Lexie busy," he promised before he began to run through the hallways, on his own mission. I looked back towards Mark, who seemed slightly relieved that at least he had one less problem to deal with. He looked back at me, our eyes meeting once again.

"So, um food right?" he said, throwing a jumble of words together.

"Yeah, food," I affirmed, and we stiffly walked through the cafeteria, like nothing had happened, which had kind of become a habit for me and my father in the short two hours I've known Mark Sloan.

As soon as we sat down, I dove into my food. Who knew crappy hospital food could taste so good after 2 days of not eating? I noticed him staring at me, and suddenly realized that I probably wasn't demonstrating the best manners.

"Sorry," I quickly muttered as I began to take smaller and slower bites in spite of what my mind was telling me to do.

"When was the last time you ate?" he questioned, dismissing my apology.

I shrugged, "About 2 days."

He shook his head. "You're probably starving, not to mention dehydrated," he paused, shoving his bottled water towards my plate and giving me the contents of his lunch along with it. "Here," he simply said.

I looked at it. "I don't want to take your food, what are you supposed to eat?" I questioned cautiously.

He shrugged again, "don't worry I'm not hungry anyway." I looked down to his plate. That confirmed the statement. He had barely gotten anything: a few pieces of bread, a jell-o container, and a tiny sliver of chicken.

"Thanks," I said as I dug into the food again, not stopping for conversation till every last crumb was gone, and every drop of water was vanquished. I looked up at him, suddenly at a loss of what to do, waiting for him to move, to say something. He finally caught on, offering up an awkward half smile. I broke the gaze and looked to my right.

"So does anyone know you're here?" Mark asked, his voice gentle, but you could hear the effort in his voice.

"No, I kind of…well…" I said, tripping over my words, trying to find the right order.

"You ran away," he finished for me calmly; he didn't seem angry, just helpful.

"Pretty much, yeah," I watched as Mark ran his fingers through his hair, and then a frightful thought came into my head. "Please don't send me back," I blurted out quickly. "If you don't want me, just tell me, but please don't send me back," I pleaded. His gaze returned to me.

"Ok get this through your head, I may not know exactly what I'm doing here, hell, I don't even know where to begin, but I am not turning you away. Okay?" he said forcefully, his voice definite and hard, but comforting. I looked up at him and nodded quietly, the thought that somebody might actually want me still a shock. He nodded in affirmation and continued speaking.

"I just need to know who to contact so people don't come looking for you and think I kidnapped you," he clarified, pausing momentarily. "I'm not sure how much fun I would be if I was in a cell, I mean how terrible would that be? I'd probably end up performing surgery on myself by the time I'm out. I mean this face is worth a lot. I can't afford to go to jail." His voice was in a mocking tone, a playful seriousness hanging off his tongue. It was ridiculous and somewhat of a vain joke, but it still made me smile. He grinned back at me. Maybe I'm crazy and seeing things, but it felt as if maybe we weren't strangers after that. But then again what do I know about feelings?

"Um you should probably call social services then. I stayed in my foster home for less than a day, I seriously don't remember the address," I replied. He nodded as he took in my words, an unreadable expression masking his face.

"Your mother, how did she…" He paused trying to figure out the right words. "I mean did she…" he stopped again. "What I'm trying to ask is…"

"Suicide, overdose to be more specific," I blurted out. I saw shock fill his features as he took in the new information.

"Oh," he said as he stared at my features, an emotion I couldn't recognize spreading across his face.

"I'm sorry," I said, realizing my mistake. "That was probably insensitive."

"No, don't be," he said, quickly dismissing my newfound apology.

The silence filled between us once again. But this time we were both too busy trying to figure things out in our own heads to bother ourselves with each other, a habit that I had apparently received from my father. Suddenly we were both shocked to attention by the shrill ring of Mark's pager. He glanced at it.

"Shit," he muttered under his voice. He looked at me. "Okay, come with me," he said quickly before he got up and began to walk fast towards the ER. I mimicked his actions, catching up with him.

"What are we doing?" I asked, confused as we approached the ER.

"I'm gonna go into a trauma room, I need you to stay here, and don't move. I don't know how long I'm going to take, but just, I don't know. Entertain yourself," he said before he went into a room with the blinds closed. I faintly heard screams coming from the dark room, and after about a minute I sat down across the door at a loss of what to do. So I just listened to the shrill screams, and wondered what had just happened. I sat for another 10 minutes before a nurse came rushing out, probably going to retrieve supplies, but as she flung the door I got a glimpse of the patient. He was in his late teens and he was burned, badly. He seemed to have been in a fire, and patches of his body were burned to the flesh, a gruesome sight. The smell was terrible, and I instinctively blocked it out, and began to breathe through my mouth. I saw Mark too, he was in full action telling people what to do, as he carefully prodded the exposed nerves and burnt flesh with needles. He looked out the door at the last glance, catching my eye, and then the door closed again, leaving me alone with my thoughts once again.

After that I had a couple more glances through the door as various people came in and out the room, all in a hurried fashion. Mark didn't look back at me again though; his eyes were focused, precise, dedicated. And eventually after an hour he was the one who came through the door. I looked up, meeting his eyes.

"Hey," he said as he sat next to me.

"Is he going to be okay?" I asked as I motioned my head towards the room where the shrill screams had become load whimpers and groans. Mark was silent for a second, trying to think of an appropriate response.

"I don't know, he's suffered a lot of trauma, Altman says he's dangerously close to a heart attack, and although they're about to intubate him he still has ash in his lungs. 70 percent of his skin has either been burned off or damaged, and although we could cover some of it with skin grafts and transplant and some of it will grow back, he will always have scars. And if he does survive he'll be in pain for a while. But right now I have to make him feel better before he feels worse," Mark replied, staring at the door.

"Talk about a bad day," I muttered as I stared at the door alongside with him.

"I'm going to have to stay in there for another 2 or 3 hours, then we'll be able to put him in intensive care," He mentioned.

"3 hours?" I asked as my mind suddenly thought of what it was supposed to do. Recently I had been struck with a sudden case of OCD I hadn't been able to sit longer than 5 minutes without shifting, or doing something. He looked at me suddenly realizing, that I literally didn't have anything to do but wait.

"Oh um, uh if you want you can go to the cafeteria," he said, unsure of what to say. At that moment a woman in dark blue scrubs and blonde hair came through the door.

"Mark, come on. We need you," the woman said as the patient moaned in pain. He snapped his attention to her.

"Um, uh," he began before she noticed me and smiled.

"You must be Tessa," she said brightly before she continued. "I'm Arizona Robbins," she said, introducing herself.

"Who told you?" Mark asked as he got up.

"Callie. No one else knows, don't worry," she replied. Mark nodded to himself as he took in the information. "Oh you must be incredibly bored, um if you want you could go to pediatrics. We're pretty stocked up on stuff for all the tiny humans, including teens," she said, smiling brightly once again. She looked at Mark, turning serious once again, "but you need to get in there, we can't give him much more sedatives, and we need to do the most painful stuff now, when he can feel it the least."

"It's all painful, most of his skin was burned off," he replied. She gave him a look.

"You know what I mean," Arizona said. He sighed and looked at me once again.

"Um don't get in trouble or something," he said awkwardly before he went back into the room.

"Don't worry, he'll get used to it," Arizona said suddenly, snapping my attention back to her.

"What?"

"This whole father thing. He's bad at it now, god-awful actually, but give him time, he'll get better, it's guaranteed," she assured me. Another scream escaped from the room. "I need to get back, good luck," she said smiling brightly before she retreated back into the room.

I stared at the door and listened to the shrill screams for a minute before I decided to heed Arizona's advice and go to the pediatric wing.

It was definitely made for children. The walls were painted bright colors with animal drawings on every corner. The rooms were like that too, but each room would have a different number of machines. Each kid had a different expression on his or her face. I honestly didn't know what I wanted to do. I had never had the chance to know what was described as normal things for my age. I sat down in a chair over by a playpen as I watched two toddlers play with each other. I glanced at the clock it was almost 9, and I hadn't slept in 24 hours. My eyes suddenly became droopy, but I forced them open as people came in and out of the pediatric ward. It was interesting really, it was an incredibly sad place, but at the same time it was incredibly happy too. The hope was overwhelming, but then you could practically feel the parents worry.

I watched as various patients were moved in and out of the ward, some never came back, and some returned only moments later. A few people gave me a sad smile, which I politely returned in an effort to seem at least slightly normal, even if it was for a second. But what I found the most exciting was when the family would be given good news, the excitement and happiness would just radiate from the room, and all the nurses in hearing range would smile just a little, and other parents would look and hope the same for their children. But there were also the worse cases, thankfully I hadn't witnessed any deaths in my time spent, but I did witness a doctor telling a single mom that her toddler had cancer. Her whole body language changed. She held her child tighter, as if the closer the kid was to her, the less the cancer could hurt her. Fear flashed through her eyes, and she began rambling that she had just brought him in for a really bad case of the flu, asking how it was possible that her precious daughter could possibly have cancer, saying it was just the flu. The doctor looked at her sadly, but clinically, gently explaining to her that there was a tumor in her child's stomach, and it would have to be removed. He also explained that the x-rays showed various things that indicated stomach cancer, stage 2. The woman took the information in, looking like she was about to break down, but she didn't, immediately asking how they could fix it. The doctor nodded and led her into a more private room where they were out of earshot. It was peculiar place, it was full of hope, but at the same time it could also be full of despair and fear.

I honestly don't know how long I observed everything, I had lost a track of time after a while, and suddenly Mark had appeared in front of me. He looked worn out. I imagined we both did.

"Hey," he mumbled as he took a seat next to me.

"So is he alive?" I asked, remembering his earlier patient.

"Yeah, he's sedated right now, we found his dad too. He'll be okay for now," he confirmed, pausing for a second as he looked at me. "You look tired," he observed, I glanced at him.

"So do you," I retorted. He chuckled for a second before he turned serious again.

"But seriously, how long has it been since you slept?" he asked sincerely. I shrugged, trying to recall the last time I had actually closed my eyes.

"Maybe a day and half, or two," I answered as I sat up a little straighter to face him. He nodded and didn't remove his gaze.

"Okay well, um, we can go back to my apartment now if you want. I just need to switch out of my scrubs, and I'm free to go," he said awkwardly. I glanced at him.

"Yeah, sure. That sounds good," I responded, unsure of what we were doing here. He nodded. I expected that he was as confused as I was. I had thrown us both into a situation neither of us knew how to deal with. After that he left me there for a few minutes so he could go changed and we left the hospital, which felt a little weird for some reason I couldn't figure out.

He had a nice car. It smelt like cologne and had a pile of things laying in the backseat. The ride back to his apartment was quiet. Both of us were thinking of what we had gotten ourselves into, and once again, had formed another silent barrier. Once we got to the apartment he parked the car and got out. I followed him as we went up about 4 flights of stairs because the elevator was out of order. He also had a nice apartment; it was nicely decorated, and somewhat neat. He clearly had a girlfriend, a lot of things pointed to it, including the faint smell of perfume that wavered in the air.

"Okay um I have a guest bedroom, right in there, and there's a bathroom in there too," Mark said, pointing to a door to the right of us, he paused. "Um I think I have some clothes for you to wear," he paused as he went into his room and rummaged through his closet. He came back with a pair of women's sweats and an oversized college T-shirt, and handed them to me. "These should work 'till we get something more suitable for you."

"Thanks," I acknowledged as my hands laid on the unfamiliar soft and clean fabric of the clothes. We stood there in awkward silence as neither of us moved.

"Um, I'm sure you're tired. I'll leave you alone to get some rest. Um good night."

"Night," I responded and we stood there for a second and stared at each other for a second before we both turned around and moved into our rooms.

The room was nice and the bed was made. Although it looked incredibly comforting to just crawl under the covers and sleep, I knew I had to shower first. I hadn't showered for 3 days and I was filthy. I went into the bathroom and stripped out of my clothes and got into the shower. The water was freezing at first but gradually warmed up. I began to sing as I always did, usually it was whatever song was stuck in my head and this time it happened to be _I Will Follow You Into the Dark. S_uddenly while I was washing my arms, my hands hit the scars and cuts. I looked down at the aligned lines that had scarred with time. Some had faded, some still had yet to even fully scar. I kept my hands on them just a little while longer, remembering what each one was for, remembering what had made me feel that way, what still made me feel that way. I took in a shaky breath as I promised myself I wouldn't do it again, although I already knew I would. It was like a drug. It blocked everything out; it made things a little better even if it was just for a second. I stood there for another 3 minutes like that, letting the hot water run over me before I continued to shower, and washed the dirt out of my hair. After that, I got dressed into the clothes that Mark had given me and crawled under the welcoming covers of the bed. I stared into the dark, forcing myself to think of happy thoughts in an effort to avoid what I knew was to come. But as the minutes went by, I felt my eyes fighting me and suddenly it was dark, as the nightmare I knew would happen came.

_It was dark; everything was pitch black. Nothing had light at first, but as the room lit up I almost wished it was dark again. I was back in my old house; everything was the same down to the broken refrigerator to the chip in the wall. I looked around and suddenly a voice rang out behind me._

_ "Looking for something?" a gruff voice said behind me. I spun around, scared as I saw Ray, my mother's boyfriend. I looked at the beer bottle in his hand. He was drunk as always. I took a step back, suddenly feeling uncomfortable._

_ "No," I said quickly, trying to make him leave, but instead he came closer._

_ "You know you're a lot hotter than your mother," he remarked as the stench of alcohol became more apparent. I backed away until my back hit the wall, but he kept walking towards me._

_ "Um you know I have homework to do, I should probably get going," I said as I tried to walk past him to the comfort of my room, but his hand grabbed my arm._

_ "Where do you think you're going?" he asked as I flinched at his touch and his terrible voice._

_ "Ray, please, let me go, please," I pleaded with him, as I tried to pull away, but his grip became stronger._

_ "Not before I have some fun with you," he stated and he dropped his empty beer bottle on the ground as both of his hands grabbed me and dragged me to the couch as I screamed for help, knowing fully well that no one would come to my rescue. I tried to fight him off as he ripped my clothes off, but he hit me as soon as I did, leaving a cut on my face. I was sobbing now, loud desperate cries as he forced himself into me. Making me feel like I was in hell, making me feel a whole new level of pain, forcing me into a life of pain._

And then I woke up screaming.


	3. Message

So hey guys! I know it's been forever since I updated or even adressed the story so I guess I should do that now. Frankly I've sort of lost my muse for this, which isn't exactly true, because I know what I want to happen, but I don't exactly know what I want to happen between now and then. So I have a proposition for you guys, I'm looking for a co-writer, basically we'll switch off chapters so someone will do ch.4 ill do 5, and so on. If you're interested please inbox me with some of your information and a sample of you writing, it doesn't have to be long, just enough so that I can get an insight on your style. Thank-you for reading this for all of you who've stuck around. :)

Constraints: *Must be able to write 3,500+ words for every chapter.

*Has to have decent sentence fluency and good grammar and spelling.

*Has to be open to discussing ideas with me, I just want to know whats happening but don't worry I'm okay with almost everything as long as its reasonable.

*You don't have to be super quick with chapter updates because I'm obviously not, but I'd like a chapter every 5 weeks, and I'll step up my game too.

*Just be nice, I don't want to work with someone who is mean and snotty.


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